I have an urge to kiss someone.
I look over at Phillip. He’s gone back to watching the movie, and his eyes are wide as he tries to avoid what’s going on in the front seat. I stare at him for a moment. His silhouette blurs and I can’t tell if it’s really him for a second. I shake my head.
God, what was in that pill?
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I think . . . I think I want to kiss you.”
Did I really just say that?
His grin widens and he leans over and then his mouth is on mine and we’re kissing and his hands are everywhere and the urges in me are raw and real, and I’m numb. He could do anything to me right now. Suddenly a flash of something snaps into my mind like one of the puzzle pieces to my life. I don’t want to be doing this. I can’t do this. I push him off me. He resists a little, thinking I’m playing with him, until I shove him into the door on the other side of Jackson’s car.
“What the fuck?” he says, giving me a confused glare.
Sweat pours off my forehead. I have no idea why I just did that. I’d said I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him, right?
I panic, grasping at the handle and missing it twice before opening the door. I run hard and fast. Jackson calls my name but I ignore him and keep going. The wind whips against my face as I dart out of the drive-in.
The streets are empty and a dog is barking in the background. A couple argues with each other. I watch the orange ashes from their cigarettes bob up and down as they flick them at each other. Then a door slams and I cover my ears ’cause it sounds like a bomb going off.
I run until I’m gasping for air and my legs are cramped. The freezing chill makes my throat burn, and my eyes are watering like I have sieves implanted in my tear ducts. I grab my knees and cough, not realizing where I am. I lift my head and look up at the red Kmart sign.
19
I glance at the door and contemplate what to do. My hair is damp when I push it away from my face. The bridge is only a few miles from here. I could run. Screw Halloween. I’ll just go now. What am I waiting for anyway? It’s not like anything’s going to change before then. I’ll always want to die.
Why do I need a plan?
No more thinking. I turn to run to the bridge and run right into an Escalade—Colter’s Escalade. My knee throbs as I smack my palm onto the driver’s-side window. “Fuck you!” I lean against the cold metal of the rear passenger door and look up at the moon. “You can’t stop me.”
An urge comes over me as quick as my decision to run to the bridge. I need to see Colter.
I run to the dilapidated building, open the door, and sneak past the guest service desk toward the back room. I search the security office, ignoring the memories of the last time I was here. He’s nowhere, but the air smells like him. I breathe it in and savor the cologne mixed with boy. I can taste it in the back of my throat.
I fly out of the back room and search the aisles. I head past electronics, bump into an end cap of DVDs, make my way past the office supplies and run to automotive. My footsteps slap against the shiny linoleum. I pass a couple, laughing, holding on to each other’s hands, coasting through the store like they have no worries.
I’m panting and sweating. My vision starts to blur and darken. My skin is on fire, my heartbeats fluttering and skipping around and they’re so loud in my ears.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and think of the states in alphabetical order to calm the storm inside. Alabama. I need to find him. He can make it all better. Alaska. I need to control this need for him—box it up and build walls around it.
My heart is going to stop. My sight is about to disappear. My legs are turning to gum.
“Ellery?”
His voice is the only thing that doesn’t make me want to cover my ears. The ache for him is strong and familiar and scares the shit out of me. I turn around and stare at him—his ratty, stained baseball cap, his mess of hair hidden under it, the way he purses his lips, the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters.
My body collapses under me and I have to lean against a kiosk of Posturepedic pillows next to me. He walks up to me and grabs my arms. I fall into him and the tears come savagely.
He strokes my hair again, like he did the night of Janie’s party. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m here,” he whispers, his breath speeding up under my cheek. I grasp onto him, clutching fistfuls of his T-shirt in my hands. I can’t get far enough into him. His heart beats against me and I count the thumps. They’re fast, faster than they should be.
Is it because I’m here? I must’ve freaked him out.
I pull away from him as he wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “What happened?”
“Phillip. I . . . .”